


Change

by autumnlouise



Series: Baby, It's Cold Outside [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, sherlolly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnlouise/pseuds/autumnlouise
Summary: Sherlock put his hands on Molly’s shoulders. “Darling, when will you realize that you are most beautiful when you are just being yourself?”In which Molly makes some changes before the Barts Christmas Party, and Sherlock does not quite agree with them.





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Merry Christmas Eve! I hope you all are doing wonderfully. I'm sorry for not posting as much as I'd hoped. Christmas is always so much busier than I think it's going to be! I have so many one-shots that are half written and just need to be completed, but I never have quite enough time to sit down and finish them off. Hopefully I can post some more over break and into the New Year as well, since most of them are winter-themed in general, not just centered around Christmas. I also have a multi-chapter fic that I'm hoping to start posting in 2018, so keep an eye out for that as well!  
> I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday!

In the bathroom of 221B Baker Street, Christmas music seeped quietly from a radio. Molly Hooper hummed along as she stared into the mirror and applied, for the first time in a long while, a rather thick layer of makeup. It was the evening of the annual Barts Hospital Christmas Party, and Molly was determined to look her best.  She held up two different shades of lipstick against her cheek to see which would look better– a bright red, or a more natural tone. Her makeup was fairly under-the-radar thus far, just some pale pink eyeshadow and black mascara, but it was Christmas and she felt it was an obligation to include some kind of red in her outfit. Her dress had a splash of it- a tight, black bodice with burgundy lace over top- but it was quite subtle. In the right lighting, the burgundy could look black and then it wouldn’t be Christmassy at all, would it? Frowning, she looked from one tube to the other and finally decided on the brighter shade. It was Christmas, and she could afford to be festive and go a little crazy for tonight.

Yes, she wanted to look her best. Because not only was it the night of the Christmas Party, but it was also the first time she would be attending said party with an engagement ring from one Mr. Sherlock Holmes on her left hand. She was determined to look every inch the beautiful bride (to-be), not only to impress him, but the partygoers as well. She wanted them all to look at her and think that she deserved him. That she was more than mousy Molly Hooper.

She had chosen wisely, she thought as she swiped the lipstick on. The red was a bit risqué, but it made the lace in her dress pop even more and brought out the blush on her cheeks. Standing back, she took a look at the finished product: hair tied up into a crown of braids, black mascara and eyeliner making her dark eyes pop. Her dress clung to what little curves she had and black, of course, thinned her out a bit. Overall, she was satisfied; she could only hope Sherlock and the others would think the same.

Tonight, she thought with a smile of satisfaction, she was no longer a damsel in distress. She was at last a femme fatale.

“Okay,” she called, stepping out of the bathroom and flicking the light off. “I’m ready, Sherlock.”

He had been standing in front of the window, absentmindedly playing Christmas tunes on his violin while she’d gotten ready. But the moment he heard her voice, the instrument fell silent and he turned around. “It’s about time, fiancée,” he said with a little chuckle. The word still sent a shiver through Molly– the ring on her finger was real, and they were to be married, and she would get her happy ending with the man she had loved for so long. “I’d say it took you at least an hour longer than…” and he trailed off when he saw her, walking towards him in her high heels and evening wear. The look on his face was unreadable as he looked her up and down; was that shock in his eyes? He barely glanced at the dress, the shoes, but his gaze lingered on her ruby-red lips for much longer than she expected. It was all very… strange. He usually barely paid any mind to her outfits, and this kind of attention was _not_ what she had wanted.

“Is something wrong?” she asked anxiously. Suddenly, she was self-conscious; was the dress too long or too short? Was her mascara clumping? Sherlock blinked a few times. He was absolutely silent for at least thirty seconds before he finally spoke. All the while, Molly’s thoughts spiraled- was the outfit really so horrible?

“You look beautiful, Molly.” he said, looking at her with furrowed brows. There was something left unsaid in his expression.

“But?” her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You are stunning, Molly Hooper, and I sincerely mean that. _But_ that dress looks like it was stolen from The Woman’s closet, and the bright shade of your lipstick quite reminds me of that reindeer with the glowing nose.” Sherlock finally confessed, coming to put his hands on Molly’s shoulders. Molly’s eyes were tearing up from the embarrassment, but she couldn’t help but laugh at the Rudolph comment. “Darling, when will you realize that you are the most beautiful when you are just being yourself?”

“It is a bit much, isn’t it?” she croaked, raising her hand to wipe a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

Sherlock shrugged. “It just isn’t you, Molly. You don’t need to make yourself into someone you’re not when you are perfect just the way you are.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If you are open to suggestions… I bought you a jumper for Christmas that I think would look much better.”

Sherlock went to go and retrieve the present, and Molly traded her evening dress for the pair of jeans she’d come over wearing and the beautiful sweater he’d given her. He was right, it was so much more _her_ – cream, with blocks of red, pink, and yellow stripes. She had a feeling Mary had more of a say in the style than Sherlock, but she loved it all the same.

“Better?” she asked when she came out of the bathroom for a second time. Sherlock greeted her with a much more enthusiastic reaction.

“There’s my Molly.” he smiled. “Do _you_ think it looks better? That is what matters the most.”

“I _am_ more comfortable this way.” she admitted. It was so much nicer to have pants on than a dress, and the new sweater was so much warmer and softer than the sleeveless evening gown. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Not quite. Turn around.” Sherlock murmured. Molly frowned, confused, but did as her fiancé asked. It was only when she felt his hands in her hair that she realized what he was doing. He pulled out the bobby pins and braids with the gentleness of a hairdresser, combing his fingers through it until it cascaded down her back in brown waves, curled from the tight coils of the braids. Molly let out a sigh of relief. Her head felt so much lighter with her hair down.

“Thank you.” she sighed, turning to face Sherlock.

“Just one more suggestion, if I may.” he said, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “The fluorescent reindeer makeup…?”

“I agree, it is a bit garish. I’ll go and take it off–”

“Wait, Doctor Hooper.” Sherlock stopped her from turning around, rooting her to the spot. His hands were warm on her skin, and she was grateful for his protest, because all she wanted to do in that moment was lean into him and be beside him forever. And forever, she realized, feeling the weight of the ring on her finger, was what they would have. His blue eyes flicked from her brown ones to her lips, and then back again.

“I think I can take care of that.” And he swooped in to kiss her, his lips soft and warm and passionate against hers. She was so glad in that moment that he’d been honest with her– because going to the Christmas Party with him like that would have felt like a lie. Here, in this moment, was the epitome of _them;_ Sherlock in his Belstaff, his hair wild and curly, and Molly in her beloved jumpers. This was who she would be as his wife; not his femme fatale, but the warm, supportive woman that he needed. His Pathologist. His Molly.

The Molly she had always been. The version of herself that she liked _best_.

When she finally pulled away and dragged Sherlock out the door, there were no traces of the bright red lipstick left. “Never change, Molly.” Sherlock had breathed, lacing his fingers through hers.

“What about my name?” she teased as they climbed into the cab.

Her fiancé’s lips twitched into that tiny, genuine smile he saved just for her. “That can be arranged, if you’d like.”

At the party, in a room filled with tuxedos and evening gowns, Molly’s jumper received the most compliments. She was radiating confidence, laughing and smiling with her arm laced through Sherlock’s. Everyone seemed to notice the ring on her finger, and by the end of the party, she’d heard more congratulations han she had Happy Christmas-es.

The next year, and all the years after that, she had changed from Molly Hooper to Mrs. Holmes, but she still wore her favorite jumper and hair down to the Christmas party.  It became a tradition for the two of them to face the glamour and glitz without a façade, to just be themselves. Molly adored it. It was liberating and made her feel more confident than she ever had before– because the truest version of herself was the most beautiful one of all.

Oh, and somewhere along the line, Sherlock ‘taking care’ of her abhorrent red lipstick had become part of the tradition, too…


End file.
